


The Watcher

by gr8k8



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Dubious Consent, Ficlet, Het Sex, Implied Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, M/M, Prostitution, implied - Freeform, misogynistic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8k8/pseuds/gr8k8
Summary: Dean used to belong to Sam.  Now he belongs to Cas.  So Sam watches.





	The Watcher

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome comments, but please be kind. This may be the only story I ever publish, but it needed to get out. See end note for "Dubious Consent" explanation.

Sam watched as CasDean moved together. He watched them move in each other's orbits.  He watched them stand too close.  
He watched their fingers touch as Cas was handed a cup or Dean grabbed a book.   
He watched them touch elbows and hips and shoulders.   
He watched them do all of the things he knew people did when they were intimate--when they were in love.   
  
He knew how Dean felt about Cas because before there was CasDean there was SamDean.   
Before hell   
Before Dean was dragged away from him   
Before Sam’s chance (responsibility, privilege, goddamn _right_ ) to save his brother was stolen by this stupid, feathery, self-righteous angel   
Sam and Dean had moved in one another's orbits.

  
Before Ruby   
Before that lying demon cunt had hooked him on blood and sex and power   
Before he betrayed the only person who mattered in all of hell, heaven, and earth and traded his soul for mediocre pussy and woo woo juice   
There had always been Sam and Dean.

He wondered if Cas and Dean were fucking yet.  
He knew that if they weren't it was only because of the Angel thing.   
Either Cas was too naive to start anything or Dean was too scared of his Angel to know what to do.

It wasn't because Dean was shy about guys.  Sam and Dean had started trading blowjobs the summer Sam turned 15.  They’d started fucking in earnest two weeks after Jess burned up on the ceiling. Sam knew that most of the random hookups Dean had were with waitresses in tight blouses stretched over big tits,  but sometimes he preferred tight t shirts stretched over broad shoulders and round biceps. So it certainly wasn't a problem with Cas’ vessel.  

So he watched.

Yeah, he decided, they were fucking.  Hands stayed a little too long.  Eye fucking turned into the shy, secret glances people give when they know the others’ taste but don't want anyone else to see.  Dean leaned over Cas to view the text the angel was researching, hand on shoulder, cheek brushing cheek, breath nearly shared.

Sam began to picture the two of them moving together in the dark. Dean, not to put too fine a point on it, liked it rough.  He liked to be moved and shoved and positioned and told what to do.  Sam, with the three inches and twenty pounds he had on his brother did this well, but he guessed an angel did it better. He couldn't help but picture Cas shoving his brother down on a ratty motel bed, Dean flushed, sweaty, and anxious, Cas in complete, calm control.  He couldn't help but wonder if Cas used his his mojo to slick his brother's ass and went right to town or if he took his time taking Dean apart inch by inch, one blunt, elegant finger at  a time opening Dean's hole.  

Fuck!  Now he was hard.  Hard and angry.  He grabbed the keys to one of Bobby’s junkers, mumbled, “I’m headed out,” and left.  

He’d once told Dean, “I don't pay,” but on this night in this bar he decided to make an exception.  He didn't have the energy for even a casual seduction, and he knew a whore when he saw one.  He took the girl to the alley behind the bar   and pushed her against the wall, face first.  He began to pound her with no prep and no preamble. He knew he was probably hurting her, at least scaring her, and he couldn't bring himself to care. Harder and harder he thrust. “Fuck. You. Dean. Winchester,” he breathed as he came. He shoved an extra $20 in the hand of the shaken hooker and tried to ignore the scratch on her cheek as she scuttled away.  A sin he’d pay for some other day.  He leaned his head against the brick and prayed to whoever might still be listening that their resident angel of the Lord might be gone when he got home. 

**Author's Note:**

> I added a dubious consent tag because there is a prostitute who technically consents to sex, but there is an element of violence that no one consented to.


End file.
